I was handed a leather portfolio and twelve suitable men. I returned it without comment.
What followed was not rebellion. It was clarity. I have spent twenty-five years building a life on the single discovery I made in those early rooms – that what aroused me was never the man across the table. It was the moment something left his possession and entered mine. The transfer. The sacrifice. The proof, in the only language that does not lie, that I was worth providing for.
This is my account of all of it. My world, my appetite, my terms – and what the men who find their way into my orbit actually experience when they arrive. I wrote it because certain men deserve to understand exactly what they are dealing with before they proceed. Because the ones who belong here should know what they are walking into. And because desire, described with precision and without apology, is its own particular kind of power.